


The Experiment

by aliitvodeson



Series: I Write Porn Like It's A Bedtime Story [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blindfolds, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints, Smut, minor bdsm themes, started as crack, then got porny, things that really shouldn't be used in a sexual setting being used for just that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliitvodeson/pseuds/aliitvodeson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John told Jim he wanted to experiment more in the bedroom. He did not come home expecting to see this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Experiment

John comes home to a very strange occurrence. Granted, strange has become pretty regular since he moved even with Jim, but this seems stranger than usual. This just seems, well, wrong. Wrong in "holy cow this can't possibly be happening Sherlock what did you drug me with this time" sort of way. Completely and utterly wrong.

John closes the door behind him, and Jim looks up with a grin. "Ah! You're home." He pulls John into a kiss, and John's still too shocked to react properly to that, so it's over rather quickly. Jim slings his arm around John, and together they face the items on the table.

"Soooo," Jim drawls, "what do you think?"

John still doesn't know what he thinks. Plenty of things have happened on this kitchen table, and on its predecessors. This wasn't the worst thing John had walked in on Jim with, and yet his brain refused to catch up with the scene in front of this.

Spread out on the table in three neat lines were paintbrushes. Not the sort used for painting houses or anything of the like, but fancy ones he could remember using during his visual arts classes in school. He had a feeling that these ones, unlike those ones, wouldn't shed their bristles all over the page. Jim had a preponderance for buying the top item in whatever he went shopping for. No doubt that extended to paintbrushes as well.

"Uh... What are they here for?" There was about twenty different brushes on the table. They pretty much looked the same to John, excluding size. "Are you taking another paint forgery job?"

Jim giggled, and pressed a sloppy kiss to John's cheek. "No, silly. These are for our experiment."

Experiment? Sherlock was the one who did the experiments. Not Jim, and definitely not John. "I don't un-" Oh. Right. That experiment. The one Jim had proposed last night. John thought about it for a moment, searching his mind for how the idea would connect to the paintbrushes.

He came up blank.

Luckily Jim took pity on him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to be painting on you just yet, Johnny boy." Then his voice was in John's ear, dark and low, and the explanation didn't feel at all merciful. "They're so soft, John. I can run them over your skin, pick up sweat and smear it across your lips. Trace a brush over your leaky cock and write my name on your chest with cum as my paint. Tease you with soft touches until you're begging for something more substantial. I'd pull back, make you beg for anything, then trace your pretty lips with the brush and kiss away your pleas."

John was straining hard in his pants, biting back a groan as Jim's tongue darted out and licked a slow stripe down his neck. When he told Jim last night he wanted to experiment more in the bedroom, he had known it would take some interesting twists, Jim being Jim and all, but this was just way beyond what he imagined.

He twisted around, grabbing the sides of Jim's head and mashing their lips together with all the passion that had deserted him earlier. They were both breathing hard when they parted. "Bedroom," was all John could managed before Jim locked their mouthes together again, palming John's erection through his jeans as he did so.

It was several long minutes before they were both naked, and John stretched out on the bed, limbs loosely secured to the frame with four of Jim's silk ties. Then there was the reckless moment of giggles when Jim realized he's left the paintbrushes in the kitchen, and went dashing out to get them, floor to ceiling windows and close neighours be damned. John started laughing anew when Jim came back into the bedroom, paintbrushes in his hands, face beet red. "Mrs. McClaen," was all the criminal managed to say before they were both on the mattress, laughing themselves breathless.

When they were both through their fit of giggles, Jim lined the paint brushes up on the side table, and John smiled as he let Jim tie the blindfold over John's head.

True to his word, Jim did make John beg. The worst moment, which meant john was near out of his mind with want, was when Jim took the smallest of the brushes, barely more than two dozen hairs, and dragged it in tiny circles all along John's cock. John could barely feel the touch of the brush, which made it agonizing. The air, the movement of hair across his skin, it was far too little to make him come, and his voice was hoarse from begging Jim to give him more. Eventually he got that, in the form of twin wide brushes trailing lines carefully, one over his chest and the other on his cock.

He came explosively, seeing white in the darkness if the blindfold, and Jim used a brush to scoop it up and spread over John's chest in a sticky mess. Jim came soon after, rutting against John's softening cock, grinning stupidly as he stared down at the message of John's chest.

Later, after John had washed up and Jim had thrown the ruined brushes away, they lay in bed together, and Jim retraced the lines of John's skin with a fingertip. "Jim," came the sleepy hum from beneath him.

"Yes?"

"Next time, warn me we're going to play before I get home from work. I'm sure I looked rather stupid standing in the doorway like that."

**Author's Note:**

> This all started withe testing brushes at the art store on my arm for their softness. And yeah, my dirty brain took it from there.


End file.
